


Devils & Details

by Phaerlax



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 22:49:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13646040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phaerlax/pseuds/Phaerlax
Summary: Additional tags will be added later so as not to spoil the recipient of the gift (for all that's worth kkk sorry lisalope)





	1. Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Additional tags will be added later so as not to spoil the recipient of the gift (for all that's worth kkk sorry lisalope)

…candles sculpted from the wax of a hive that had never before been harvested, each one darkened by an ounce of tar, their fuses lit in the seven minutes before midnight, in honor of the Dukes, with an iron tinderbox…

The little package rattled as Aaron tentatively fished out some of the black candles he had bought on eBay, seven of them. He looked at the back of the package, not for the first time, and it still read _paraffin_ , which wasn’t remotely close to beeswax, even less so to wax from a hive that had never been touched and painted with tar or whatever. The candles seemed more like something that a goth might keep around in case the lights went out, or cheap Halloween props, not something one would use for black magic. But hey, they hadn’t ever been lit, and the color was right, shouldn’t that be enough? Also, his lighter and an iron “tinderbox” probably produced fire pretty much the same way.

The book was old, times changed. Surely the devil would have updated his expectations accordingly?

The boy checked the time on his phone – fifteen minutes to midnight – and left his room, going downstairs, going all over the house, again. Just to be sure. All lights still out, all other rooms still empty. He had dropped a chair by the front door, so that it would make noise if his parents came back home suddenly. In that case, he’d blame the cat. But they’d surely sleep over at his uncle’s, worried for his health.

Aaron felt kinda bad, taking advantage of his uncle being sick to get the privacy he needed for this. But the opportunity was just too good. It was a full moon, and it was spring, and the date lined up with the bullshit numerology the book mentioned. So he pretended to an important assignment to turn in tomorrow – well, he _did;_ he pretended to _care_ – and it worked. They’d left him home alone.

Instead of listening to loud music, smoking weed, masturbating or all of the above, Aaron was going to have a go at satanism, because he was a special snowflake like that, and desperate.

He left the kitchen with a curved, slender knife, shooting nervous glances at the front door before climbing back upstairs. The knife was part of a set of six, each for a different purpose ostensibly, that his mother had won as an anniversary gift and never, ever used. The book called for an “iron athame, its blade unspoiled from the moment of the final hammering”. Athame was a kind of knife, steel is pretty much a better form of iron, and the knife had never been used. So close enough, right?

He got back inside his room and locked the door gingerly. His room was not very big, which meant that the magic circle thing was impossible to ignore. Aaron was pretty proud of it, actually. He’d drawn the circle in a large sheet of plywood, leftover from his parent’s old closet. The design was maddeningly complex, a pentagram inside a heptagram inside interlocking triangles inside another heptagram inside a circle, with small symbols making up the contours of every shape, and words between them. But he’d nailed it, to the point where it was hard to spot a difference between it and the example given by the book. He hoped it would count for something, that he had made an effort in at least one department. Well, he had used store-bought chalk sticks instead of harvesting it from the nature or whatever, but they were brand new sticks, keeping to the spirit of “never before seen use” that permeated all the other shit in the components.

It was only then that it dawned on him that the common theme was virginity. Wax from “virgin” bees, a new blade that was never used to cut, fresh chalk… the blood of a virgin.

Aaron could supply that himself, of course. Silver linings, eh?

Seeing the moonlit circle – window open for the occasion – and the candles lying to one side, feeling the knife in his grip, the boy couldn’t help but chuckle. He was really going to fucking do this. God, he felt stupid. Checking the time – nine minutes to midnight. Aaron flipped through the yellowed pages of the book once more, despite knowing most of the text by heart now, just to be sure. Well, no point in giving up anymore, right?

His mother always joked about how she’d made a deal with the devil to get a man as perfect as his dad; it was mostly to freak out the Jesus-crazy part of the family, Aaron always assumed, and it was damn effective. He couldn’t help but smile at the mere thought of the gasps and choked prayers it got out of aunt Tilda on Christmas eves.

But then he’d found that book.

If God was real, then surely – _maybe_ …

He had no time to second-guess metaphysics, it was almost time. Aaron hastily set the candles into position, seven of them, one at each tip of the smaller heptagram. He flicked his lighter, but it wasn’t time to light the candles yet. Two more minutes. Instead, he lit a joint, coughing out some smoke a few seconds later.

Being home alone afforded other opportunities than just dabbling in the occult. He could multitask.

The final step – Aaron pulled his shirt over his head and slipped out of his shorts. The book was very explicit that the “querent” should perform the ritual “nude and bathing in the light of the full moon.” He considered keeping his underwear on, but ditched those too, because he was already ignoring the implicit instruction that this should be happening outdoors and _no fucking way_ he would do this outdoors. Alas, the open window would have to be enough; but he didn’t want to disobey the text _too much_ , so, naked.

So what if it didn’t make sense? What kind of magic makes sense?

He glanced at the mirror, and saw the back of it, because he had turned it to face the corner beforehand. Aaron hated seeing himself naked, the gangly limbs, the hair he couldn’t get rid of, the acne. Puberty had hit him hard and mercilessly. He set the water to scalding hot whenever he showered, so that the steam would obscure the bathroom mirror.

No, he didn’t need therapy, he just needed to grow out of it. Time.

But the world wouldn’t wait, so Aaron sought a shortcut.

He knelt and inhaled the smoke, holding it in as he watched the seconds tick up to 23h53min on his phone, his perception dulling at the edges already. It never took much food to make him full, much booze to make him drunk or much weed to make him high. The perks of being a skeleton.

At the literal last second before the first of seven minutes to midnight, Aaron lowered the lighter, and as the wick was ignited, he said: “ _Agares._ ”

And he went into a brief coughing fit, blowing out smoke, and almost knocked the candle over, but he continued: “b-bear witness at the threshold to this rite…”

There was a short string of phrases he had to say, and he’d rehearsed, but it was still hard. Some of the words had no vowels, and he ended up basically saying each word individually, like a list. He had no idea what language that was, but he’d never complain about Spanish classes again.

The silliness of the situation was painfully evident as he finished talking to the candle – in broken Candleish – while naked and kneeling on the ground. But it would be even sillier to stop then.

Ten seconds, and then it was six minutes to midnight, and he lit the next candle. This one was in honor of “Andras”, and the shit he was supposed to hear was different, so Aaron didn’t have the opportunity to improve his pronunciation with each candle. More words, too, enough that he almost didn’t manage to say it all in one minute before moving to the next one – “Vepar”.

Aaron had lit all candles by midnight, neatly. Their glow overtook the moonlight and cast weird shadows all around. He didn’t suddenly feel particularly magicky, but oh well.

The next part was harder, because it didn’t fully have a script. The _querent_ was expected to provide his own input. But, first… the _likeness of the desired._

Aaron reached over his bed and quickly took Jacob’s Instagram profile picture, which he had printed out in the best quality possible.

It did feel awkward, to be naked and holding that picture. But it certainly wasn’t the first time Aaron was, hm, intimate, with Jake’s image. His crush was very prolific in posting pictures, particularly pictures of him out swimming, at the beach, a pool or even the river. In speedos.

Jake had a perfect body, a swimmer’s build, curly blonde hair and green eyes you could get lost in (though Aaron never did, because that’d require eye contact), not to mention his constant, perfect smile, and that wasn’t all, he wasn’t just beautiful, he was also at the top of the class, and funny, and even though he was so fucking _perfect_ he seemed not to know it – not that everyone around him didn’t, especially the girls. But Jake didn’t much care for girls. He was never with a girlfriend. He was obviously gay too.

Still, Aaron couldn’t bring himself to make even the feeblest of attempts at approximation. Like the absurdly shy protagonists of fanfics he’d read – though he wasn’t shy as much as overly aware of his shortcomings.

He didn’t have time to outgrow his ugliness, high school wouldn’t last forever. Maybe no amount of time would help, even. He might have gotten an overdose of his mother’s genes.

So, obviously, satanism was the answer.

Aaron inhaled the smoke for courage as he looked at the picture in the middle of the pentagram. Even talking in the presence of a goddam photo of his crush was hard. Courage didn’t really come, but he got more high, which was good enough.

He picked the knife up, holding it against the palm of his hand, pressing the blade in, but not slicing, not yet. He was supposed to bleed at the end of his “query”, as tribute.

It said something that he was more apprehensive about verbalizing his feelings in an empty room than he was about cutting himself with a knife. He opened his mouth, and coughed.

“I- I, hm, request, that…” He should really have written something down beforehand. “I request that my… desired one, Jacob Norfair, return my- affections”

It was so fucking pitiful.

“Okay!”

A shiver ran down his spine, and his whole body cramped painfully from utter fright. It was a miracle that he hadn’t cut all his fingers off in reflex.

Jake’s voice, his beautiful voice; it was the last thing he wanted to hear at that time, but it was unmistakable, and it came from beside him.

Aaron should startle and scamper away, scream, but he did none of those things. He just stayed where he was, kneeling, frozen. The only part of his body that hadn’t gone into stasis was his heart, in overdrive and about to explode.

“Chill, Aaron, I’m not real,” Jake chuckled, and even that sounded beautiful. A secondary shiver ran down the kneeling boy’s spine as he felt a hand on his head, fingers combing gently though it. Petting him. What the fuck was happening. “You’re dreaming again.”

What. No. That wasn’t how dreams _worked._

From his deepest reserves, Aaron managed to summon the strength to look up.

Yeah, he was dreaming, because Jake wasn’t just standing there. He was standing there without any clothes on, and smiling with those perfect teeth. It was the first time Aaron made eye contact for more than a second. He was entranced. He wanted to look into those smiling eyes forever.

But he didn’t, because there was more to look at, lower down, the tiny moons tattooed along his clavicle, the candlelit, hairless chest, abs, and his-

it was inches away from Aaron’s face.

Something snapped within him, breaking his paralysis; he closed his eyes and looked down in a spasm, and his hands flew to his own crotch as Aaron suddenly remembered his own nudity – dream or no dream, it was gut-wrenchingly shameful, even more so for the fact that his hands were more than enough to cover up, which evidently wasn’t true for Jake. Aaron’s cheeks burned, a stark contrast to the chills he had just experienced.

Again, the chuckles, and the hand found its way back to his now lowered head. “You’re dreaming, stupid. You should enjoy it…”

The words were honey – like, literally, he smelled something very sweet, and the sensation of encroaching wooziness advanced on his mind, as if he had inhaled more weed, or had a few beers. Despite himself, Aaron’s head slowly raised, and his eyes fluttered open.

He could see Jake smiling down at him still, and the hand that wasn’t resting on his head was busy, fingers running along the length of his hardening cock.

Aaron literally couldn’t look away, his eyes wouldn’t close. After a few seconds, he didn’t _want_ to look away.

Jake was smiling, and hard, despite Aaron’s unsightly, pitiful present. That was a good dream. He smiled too, almost laughing.

“There you are,” Jake said, his hand going down to caress Aaron’s cheek. The burning flush there spread across his whole body and, very quickly, Aaron’s hands weren’t enough to cover up anymore. “Come, get up.”

He did, all too eager to follow the script. That dullness of the senses was spreading. Jake looked even more handsome and muscular than he remembered. The candlelight, maybe. Or a dream’s inherent idealization.

Jake pulled Aaron to him with a firm grip of his stalker’s bony waist, pulled him close, close enough that their erections rubbed together, by chance at first, but soon intentionally, as Jake rocked his hips.

Aaron wanted to let his voice out, to moan like the guys in porn, or say Jake’s name, but he couldn’t find his voice, so enraptured he was. His head was light, as if his brain was elsewhere. When he felt the hands on his waist slide to his ass and _grab_ – as much as they could, given Aaron’s scrawny body –, he gasped sharply, his whole body shuddering.

He couldn’t take much more of that. The sheets would be such a _mess_ when he woke up.

One of the hands slid up then, halfway up his back and then his chest, caressing his neck before reaching his chin and tenderly raising his face so that he and Jake made eye contact again.

Deep, deep green bedroom eyes; Aaron stared so much that the edges of his vision flickered and darkened. Jake was saying nothing, but being painstakingly clear as he leaned his head forward. Their lips approached.

Aaron closed his eyes and let the dream take care of it, because he had no idea how to-

Wind, a sudden shockwave. His footing was gone, and he felt his body spinning as a sound boomed and assaulted his ears, and Jake was pulled away from him, cursing and grunting. Aaron was confused and angry that the dream would troll him so cruelly. He felt his back hit the bed, his naked body bouncing on it twice. The boy heaved as he sat up and opened his eyes-

Jake’s voice sounded less beautiful now that he was uttering a string of nonsense, but that barely registered in Aaron’s mind, as his attention was completely absorbed by the figure that was lifting Jake up forcibly by his hair – the man wearing robes, with huge wings sprouting from his back. Their beating, despite slowing down, was bringing about a maelstrom on Aaron’s room, his stuff flying everywhere and a shelf dropping from the wall. The man was super tall, and his eyes glowed bright with the same radiance that seemed to emanate from the back of his head- and it was then that Aaron realized that booming sound was his _voice_ , and he spoke Candleish, that was–

the man’s face had turned to face Aaron, his luminescent eyes seeming to acknowledge him, and he pointed at Aaron with his free hand

_Enochian._

His ears ringed and his eyes burned.

Everything went white.


	2. Paradise

A mere pulse of his Radiance was all it took. The bearer of the prophet’s name collapsed back on its cradle, reeling and clutching at its blinded eyes – in the process, it exposed itself even more, paying no mind to modesty as its legs flailed wildly. Shameful and disgusting, as was so frequently the case with humans at that epoch. Remiel was aware that this one ordinarily knew well enough to be ashamed of itself, as humanity ought to be ever since the original sin. But it had vice crawling under its skin, and was all too quick to give in-

_“Unhand me, heavenly dog! Let me_ go! _”_ The pitiful, naked creature writhed and spewed profanities in its broken facsimile of the celestial speech. Remiel was easily holding it up a foot off the ground with a firm and doubtlessly painful grip on its hair, and its legs kicked both at the air and at the angel uselessly. It scratched and pulled at Remiel’s wrist and hand, trying to end the grip with no success, even when its humanlike nails extended into wicked claws and a long, slender tail sprouted from the base of its spine to batter the angel as well.

“No,” he said, with enough gravity that the demon’s efforts were somewhat abated. It seemed to be coming to grips with its situation. “This is your third infraction of the edict I placed upon you, Arzulge. My expectations had been higher after the previous one. I am greatly disappointed.”

As his voice boomed across the chamber, the structure that had collapsed from the wall righted itself, and displaced artifacts found their ways back to their proper locations.  Remiel made it so that his wings collapsed within his form, for the space was too confined.

“It was _begging_ for it! Look at the ritual- it’s a _sinner!_ ” Arzulge let out a long hiss, followed by pained whines as it renewed its efforts to break free. “Let go, it _hurtss_ -”

Remiel looked down at the sigil on the ground, the light of his gaze illuminating the intricacies of it.

He did let go. As soon as its feet touched the ground, the demon took a lightning-fast stride towards the open window Remiel had flown in through, but the angel was even faster, and trivially reached for and tightly grabbed the tip of Arzulge’s tail, pulling him back forcefully. The creature landed hard on its posterior, in a way that might be comical, were it not so pitiful.

“The spell was fated to fail, as you are doubtlessly aware. The human is a sinner; however, his soul is far from the point at which your kind would have the liberty to meddle with it. You doubtlessly aware of this as well, for you are clever.”

“Thank you,” the creature replied, crudely, whilst moving to stand up. Remiel dissuaded it from the idea by pushing its head down. Arzulge grit its teeth and growled, but knew better than to fight him, and sat back down. Its features were shifting from the form it used to entice the human; hair lengthening and darkening, irises going red, with slit pupils, ears elongating and skin going paler. “I need to feed. I can’t starve to death. I wasn’t gonna kill the kid.”

Remiel knew when a lie was spoken in his presence. That was not one. Intriguing.

“Nevertheless. I spoke with great clarity when prohibiting you from this manner of contact with the humans…”

“I’m a fucking _incubus,_ for the love of Lucifer-”

The angel’s movement was fast and precise; a single swing of his hand, tracing a crescent across the air, and his Radiance coalesced into a lash-like form that crashed against the demon’s bare back like a wave breaking against the sea shore. Arzulge’s wail of pain was ear-piercing, as smoke sizzled from the diagonal burn.

“You speak unrequested, and defile creation with such a name. Nevertheless,” he continued, as if nothing had happened. No further interruption. Excellent. “My edict was clear. Do you not agree? Speak now.”

As Remiel held on to its tail, the demon could not properly face him without putting itself into an uncomfortable position; still, it glared at the angel over its shoulder with those piercing red eyes, as the mark upon its back regenerated. The glare told Remiel that it was deserving of another lash, for the defiance was still there, but he offered it a chance to keep that under control.

“No. You were clear.”

“Indeed.” The angel nodded, pleased. “Now, am I to-”

He was interrupted by a shriek, and turned to glance at its origin. The human had recovered, and had crawled back over its bed until its back was against the wall. It was shaking and covering its lower body with a garment that now properly preserved its modesty. Proper, yet currently undeserved.

It was haphazardly stringing together words in its worldly tongue, asking something to the effect of “what is happening?”, repeatedly. As the light of Remiel’s gaze illuminated it, the human’s own eyes went very wide, and it seemed ready to jump for the door.

“ _Be still,_ ” he commanded, in that tongue it spoke, his Radiance intensifying and shining over the human. Its movements ceased, except for the subtlest. Distressed noises and cries flowed out of its mouth. “Calm yourself, child. You are safe.”

Remiel’s soothing voice seemed to be effective, as it acquiesced greatly. Its wide eyes were now mostly directed at the sitting demon, who stuck its long tongue out at the human mockingly. The human gulped visibly.

“However, your attempt to meddle with the lower powers is most troubling,” he continued, in English. “You are to be punished, naturally.”

As the human began breathing heavily in nervousness, Remiel waved his hand, and used the power that was currently holding it in place to move it. Hands went behind its head, and its legs spread wide before, to its utter horror, the garment that preserved its modesty was flung across the room. The human’s body began to shift to a redder color. The thing between its legs had decreased in size and volume from its previous state, which was right and proper. The human protested, its voice high-pitched and faulty.

“ _Silence_ ,” Remiel said, and it went totally quiet. He did not have to use his power to achieve that effect. “I am aware that this predicament brings you shame. That is proper, for your actions were most shameful, child-”

“You’re into some weird shit, for an angel,” he heard the demon mutter under its breath. Amusing, that it remained defiant even under such a compromising predicament. Remiel turned his attention back to it, leaving the human to contemplate on its misdeeds.

“As for you, Arzulge…” The angel raised his hand, and his Radiance began to gather and focus into a quickly-growing orb of pure white energy, floating above his outstretched palm. The demon frowned, wary. “Thrice now you have chosen to ignore my command, and attempted to lie sinfully with mortals. Thrice you have petulantly denied me. Am I to purge you with my Radiance, so that your essence is scattered and your form-”

The shift in posture was instantaneous. The demonic eyes of the creature went wide, much like the human’s had, except for the pitch black sclerae. Its body shuddered, and it crawled at Remiel, claws clutching at his alabaster robes – not in aggression, but pleading. Long ears were lowered, like a dog’s.

“No, no, no, no no _no_ -” It shook its head violently as Remiel looked down at it, expressionless. The orb of light still grew in his palm. “You _can’t_ \- please don’t- I’m sorry, oh holy one!” It lowered its head and sobbed theatrically, it’s clutching at Remiel’s robes intensifying “Just- punish me, as well, instead!”

A satisfying sensation seeped through the angel’s chest. It was a wholesome feeling, affirmation of his superiority over such base creatures, of the certain triumph of Law over Chaos in the grand scheme of the cosmos.

It was impossible to destroy an angel or demon forever. They would merely reform from the concordant choir of the heavenly layer or the chaotic mass of the pits of hell, eventually. To change one’s nature, however…

“You have been punished before. It has evidently proved ineffective. Why would this instance be any different?”

Remarkably, the demon had no ready answer, other than to look up with those wide, pleading eyes and whimper as it saw the orb of Radiance. That sensation of dominance and superiority was further instigated.

Unlike the human, it was clearly still aroused. The angel could feel evidence of that poking against his leg as Arzulge pleaded for the integrity of his form. “You are utterly disgraceful,” Remiel uttered, suddenly, as he raised his foot to push the thing away and press it back against the demon’s abdomen. It whimpered in surprise and discomfort, but in seeming lust as well. Disgraceful indeed – but at his mercy. “Very well. In my enlightened compassion, I shall grant you another opportunity at redemption, despite your previous petulance. Do _not_ waste it.” Each word of his last sentence was punctuated with a light push of his foot. The demon grit its fangs, and nodded quickly.

Remiel closed his raised hand, dismissing the devastating blast he had been charging up.

“You’re most gracious, oh holy one,” Arzulge grunted through the grit teeth, and it sounded sarcastic. The defiance, the petulance, it was detectable now that immediate threat to its existence had passed. It doubtlessly knew that Remiel would not go back on his word.

“Indeed. Now, for your punishment- is there something that you feel is appropriate? This was, after all, your suggestion.”

The demon looked up at Remiel quizzically, and with some mistrust. Slowly, it turned around, still on its knees. The angel had let go of its tail by this point. It leaned forward slightly, glancing back over its shoulder. It was quite clearly presenting its back, where the scarring from the recent reprimand had already healed.

“You believe it proper that I whip your back?”

It nodded.

“I have done so previously, however. Perhaps, to do away with your brattish defiance…”

Remiel turned his gaze back upon the exposed, flustered young human, who shivered and closed its eyes immediately. It would certainly have turned its head away if Remiel’s power had allowed it. “Tell me, child, how is it that humans might physically chastise a petulant young one? Speak now.”

It took a few seconds to understand that it had been asked a question. Remiel kept his gaze steady, and did not repeat the question, only tapped his foot once, and the human shook amusingly.

“s-spanking them,” it stuttered, nervously. “s-sir angel, sir _,_ ” it added tentatively. “please, can I, may I get d-dressed, sir”

Remiel’s serene expression was broken by an amused smile as his sense of affirmation further solidified, and he ignored the question. Simultaneously, the kneeling demon frowned. “You _can’t_ be serious,” it muttered.

“I can, and I am. Assume position, fiend,” the angel ordered, an instant before forcefully pushing his foot against its back, sending Arzulge tumbling forward amusingly. He pushed again upon seeing that the demon only made a token effort at crawling further, defiant; this time, it hit the bed, holding it for balance as it knelt. Remiel moved to sit gracefully beside it, brushing his alabaster robes. The human was nervous at the proximity. “That is it. Now, make yourself a proper target – arch your back, and position your knees further apart.”

Arzulge glared hellish daggers at him. “I’m not a fucking imp, I’m two hundred-”

The sound of soft flesh being struck by the angel’s heavy palm was greatly amplified by his unearthly strength, and immediately followed by an indignant, angry yelp from the demon. Remiel didn’t like the tone, so he took an instant to charge with his hand with Radiance before unleashing a second strike at the other buttock. This time, it made a sizzling sound, and Arzulge’s resulting grunt was much more pain than rebellion.

The angel had a moment to contemplate the twin handprints on the pale flesh, one much more severe, before they were obscured by the demon’s own hands, rubbing the pain away as it grunted. Remiel felt a thrill at noticing his ministrations were having an effect. It was similar to the thrill of battle against Hell, but somehow greater – the subjugation of this minion of chaos was his merit alone, not the angelic hosts’.

“Your hands are to stay here,” he instructed, pulling the demon’s hands away and pressing them down on the mattress. It only put up a token resistance. “And do as I have said. Shall you conform, or am I to compensate for your defiance with more strength?”

The response wasn’t immediate, which earned it another stinging swat on top of the sizzling handprint. At the same time he growled in indignant protest, it did as told, knees sliding apart, backside perching up. Oddly, its head also went down. Embarrassment? From an incubus? Intriguing.

Its body language told a tale of defeat. It made Remiel’s thrill soar, to see a foe vanquished and helpless in such a way. Without thinking, he brought his radiant hand down one, two three times in quick succession; the demon’s surprised whimpers of pain merged together into a low scream of pain. Elated, the angel gathered more Radiance, and struck again with great force – this time, Arzulge’s arms gave away, its upper body collapsing on the bed, chest pressed against the mattress as it took in controlled breaths, trying to keep some veneer of dignity.

“It is my hope that you reconsider your attitude. I must stress that this is your final chance,” he announced, punctuating each sentence with a heavy-handed slap. Arzulge sucked in air though his grit teeth, trying desperately to tough it out, but the Radiance doubtlessly made it extremely difficult. “I cannot believe that it would be so difficult to seek your unholy sustenance exclusively in the infernal realm.”

The angel had heard what sounded like a wet sob from the previous slap, and he smiled triumphantly as he brought his hand down for another, which made the creature yell out, uncontained. He didn’t bring his hand up for another strike after that; instead, he *grabbed* his target. The flesh felt hot and was certainly sore by that point – the gesture brought about a continuous, pained moan from the demon, interrupted by an angry hiccup.

“You don’t _own_ me, you fucking-” The challenge made Remiel frown, though it did not dispel his now constant grin. The room was lit up as he charged his hand with the most powerful charge of Radiance yet, and brought it down square in the center of his target. Arzulge _wailed,_ raising its head to scream, its claws digging deep into the mattress as the whole body shuddered and it clenched its buttocks together. “y-you don’t…”

Its voice was unmistakably wet and strangled with sobbing. Remiel slid one finger across the demon’s face, too fast for it to wince away, and he could feel the tears.

The angel _laughed_ – for the first time in his existence, thought it did not register that fact – as it sense of elation reached a peak, a pleasant warmth flowing though his form. It was a strange new sensation, which made him feel lighter, his though process faster. The ecstasy of absolute victory over Chaos, the righteous triumph of a champion of heaven. He’d drive every demon he met into submission. But first, this one, that dared defy him, even from its pitiful, disgraceful position-

As he adjusted himself, Remiel felt soothing very strange, a tension against his robes, from the inside. Taken aback, the angel brought a hand there and–no, it couldn’t be-

A spark of _joy_ ran trough his form, exploding inside his head, as he touched there. It happened again and again as his hand moved even minimally. That was supposed to be for mortals, and a mere detail in his form, made in the Creator’s image. For him, an angel, to…

Then it dawned on him. Of course. It was a clear message from the divine ether. His purpose was clear.

“I suppose- there’s only one thing that your sinful, depraved psyche will… understand,” Remiel muttered, his voice less crisp and crystalline than it had always been, as he breathed somewhat raggedly. The right and proper words didn’t come as easily whilst he focused on his purpose. His hands grasped forcefully at the demon’s sore ass, spreading it, as he disrobed for the first time in eras. The joy guided him, and he grinned ever wider, fingers digging into the petulant creature’s flesh, its whimpers melodic, right and proper. Drawing from his sagely knowledge and no personal experience, Remiel slowly thrust forward, gasping at the flood of completely new sensations. He felt the demon contract around him, and was taken aback at how the ensuing spark caused him an involuntary verbal reaction, a strangled moan. “You have- been taken-”

His gloating was strangled, drowned, as the absolute elation that filled his chest suddenly turned cold. He tried to say something else, but then, agony struck – it felt as if veins of ice were spreading all across his form, his movements spasming, locking up, his muscles didn’t respond to his mandate, what-

The creature was laughing.

“Maybe with a decade of practice you’ll get the hang of it, cherub-” Arzulge pushed against the bed, getting up. The _gall-_ Remiel reached to stop him, but his arm was sluggish, and heavy. There was nothing he could do to stop the foul creature from driving its elbow into his gut, bringing the angel down to his knees. In the periphery of his vision, he could see that the human was beginning to move, the power that held him fading. But it was hard to see. Light was being snuffed out. _His_ light. “But, just a tip, there’s more to fucking than slowly moving back and forth, y’know?”

“What-” His throat seized up. A cough. He was coughing. His form felt very feeble, slow, his senses dull, his core cold. “ _What have you-”_

Looking up at the demon, he could see a large, fanged smile across its tear-streaked face. It laughed wickedly.

“Me? Nothing. But you, oh man, you done fucked up…”

Remiel had to escape. He felt the burst of his wings manifesting, but, and he beat them, there was no resistance, no purchase. Bleak, soiled feathers filled his vision, as the creature chuckled heartily-

The chamber was plunged into darkness, and the edges of his vision narrowed.

Everything went black.


	3. Hell

He had worked damn hard for that, and it turned out quite spectacular.

Arzulge watched with wicked satisfaction as the angel’s wings came undone, his halo winked out, golden hair shifted into a tarnished, copper-like sheen, and those fucking lantern eyes went black. He was going into a torpor, mute, blind, deaf, almost like a perfect sculpture.

He hadn’t expected the Falling process to be quite that dramatic, but angels, right?

The demon rubbed his ass vigorously, as if that’d speed up the regeneration. Fucking cherub wasn’t holding back much by the end, the bastard. But that was the plan, and it worked. It took time, three encounters, a lot of pain on his part, but the holy fool had finally fallen (heh) into the trap like the self-important imbecile that he was. Arzulge grinned and wiped away tears. The horrid zapping light wouldn’t be an issue anymore.

He had to admit, though, the angel was kinda hot even before, but now he was definitely his type. The non-glowbug look really suited him-

“PLEASE DON’T KILL ME,” Aaron shouted, and the demon glanced his way. The human had been freed from the angel magic shenanigans, and was seemingly trying to merge his body into the wall behind him or something. He had gotten hard from watching that, too. Weird kid, but he had gathered that much form reading him earlier.

Arzulge rolled his eyes very emphatically. “Not gonna kill you, _chillax,_ ” and he pushed with his Miasma. The dark aura coalesced around the frightened boy, and he chillaxed, smiling slightly.

Poor thing was getting overdosed with celestialness that night.

“You gave me a great opportunity today, Aaron, thanks.” He gave the human a clawed thumbs up. “I’d offer to continue your _dream,_ but-”

The entity previously known as Remiel stirred.

“Hm, back so soon?” He pet the now coppery hair of the former angel. It was thicker now, coarser. No horns or tail yet. “Repeat after me: _Lucifer did nothing wrong_ ”

The fallen’s eyes opened and he shot Arzulge a hateful, if feeble glare. Black sclerae, red irises, slit pupils. Almost a mirror, nice.

“ _This is…_ ” His voice no longer boomed.

“Don’t say ‘impossible’, come on, you don’t _have_ to be that corny,” the demon chided, chuckling. “So, I tricked you into plain old sinning and now you’re damned forever. You know, _the thing that demons do_. You didn’t really think through this ‘conversion’ thing, did you? It kinda goes both ways... welcome to the other side, brother.”

The fallen angel blinked slowly, shocked.

“But hey, it’s not really all downsides, you know? You don’t have to stress about the, what was it, ‘right and proper’ shit anymore, your dick will work- that felt good didn’t it? Also, corrupting humans is so much easier than guiding them to the right and proper stuff,” Arzulge smiled broadly, patting the fallen angel’s head. His interlocutor reached to push his hand away, but it didn’t happen. “But there’s the downsides, of course. Hm, the first downside is that you’ll be kinda useless for a century or two. I’m way more powerful than you now. This world spins in interesting ways, uh?” He laughed heartily. He human laughed along, enthralled by him again. “So, let’s get right to this, do you want to go out into the world and get destroyed by bigger fish or do you want to be my bitch?”

The previously angelic face contorted into a frown. He made an effort to get up. “How dare you, you petulant-”

Arzulge backhanded him across the face, not really seeking to injure, but hard enough to make his head turn and leave a mark on the pale flesh. The fallen angel fell back on his knees, then on his side, a hand over the slapped area as if the concept of having just been struck was completely alien to him.

“Yeah, uh, no more of that, haha. By the way, even if you don’t want to be my minion, you can expect some payback in your immediate future, ok?” The demon lightly tapped his own bottom, to illustrate his point. “Also, hm, I bet my Miasma is enough to push you around now-”

He tried, sending forth the dark aura and uttering a command, and indeed, the former angel’s movements where easily hijacked despite his vocal protests, much like he’d done to Aaron with his Radiance earlier. Speaking of which-

“Hey kid, two questions- do you have a belt? Do you feel like getting some payback?”

Arzulge already knew the answer, since he had enthralled the human, but hey, theatrics- Aaron enthusiastically agreed, skipping with glee to his closet, not bothering to put clothes on, which was the telling sign of his current condition.

With a grand gesture of his hand, the demon lifted his charge up and puppeteered him to the bed, dropping him on his back unceremoniously.

“Stop this at once! Arzulge! This is-”

The demon took great pleasure in saying _silence,_ and silence was had. He didn’t command ‘stop staring at me hatefully’, though, because frankly it was kind of cute.

Aaron brought him five belts. He picked the meanest-looking one, and handed it back to the human. With a snap of his fingers, the fallen angel was forced to lift his legs up and hold them in place.

“All yours, kid-”

Aaron swung with abandon, all passion, no finesse. The leather sang, and as it bit into pale flesh, the helpless victim seemed aghast that such a blow could now harm him. By the second strike, he was aghast at just _how much_ it could harm him, and, by the third, screams were dying in his throat, the silence command preventing him from crying out. Arzulge was impressed; that wasn’t all the Miasma, for sure; deep down, that boy was really fucking angry at having been left on display like that for a few minutes.

He waited until tears streaked down from the corner of the fallen’s eyes, and then waited some more, before ordering Aaron to stop. Halfway through, his voice was given back to him, and uncontrollable bawling instantly filled the room. His body shaked as much as it could while contained by Arzulge’s power.

“Ew, I didn’t expected you’d get _that_ weak- but we can work on that over time. Unless you feel comfortable out in the world with your current power level…?” He poised the question once he made Aaron stop the onslaught, and had to speak loudly to be head over the pathetic whimpering of that once proud creature. Hard to stay proud with no power and all those nasty purple welts. Would take a while to regenerate, probably, if a fresh fallen could regenerate at all…

The sobbing mess shook his head no. “Good,” the demon said, allowing him to drop position at last. “Here, I’ll give you a treat-”

Arzulge held the fallen angel’s knees and pushed them apart, leaning in to let his tongue do its figurative magic. He’d never sucked an angel off before- then again, this didn’t really qualify anymore. But he’d never sucked a fallen angel off before either.

And, obviously, Remiel had never experienced that, given his confused, and conflicted moaning, with feeble attempts to push the demon away.

“This… is _sinful_ ,” he managed to articulate, despite how hoarse his voice was from bawling his soul off from being belted by a human. He didn’t sound very convincing, from the way moans intertwined with the words.

“Stop trying to earn good boy points, dear, it’s _waaay_ too late for that now. Think in the opposite direction, trust me-” Arzulge said, a renewed erection popping out of his mouth as he backed away from the sucking before the fallen could climax. Before the insuing whimper of frustration was even finished, the demon had straddled him, a knee to either side as he lowered himself for a ride. “Let’s see if you can get the hang of it now-“

He really didn’t, movements either too little or too much. Arzulge rolled his eyes, bored after a minute of teaching, and just had the fallen angel stay still while he bounced.

“So, Aaron kid, you’ll need one of the good mind wipes, or you’ll end up doing something stupid, but I’ll try to have you remember this- let’s see… that guy I turned into? No, he doesn’t really know you exist, but he’s into skinny types, and he likes to read the same shit you do on the computers. Here’s what you do: find him on the computer first, use shared interests to…”

Aaron stoop there, enthralled, while the demon rode his new plaything and schooled him on how to get his object of desire through efficient cynicism.

א

He woke up from the weirdest dream later.

ת

Arzulge didn’t account for the fact that fallen angels can grow exponentially more powerful than incubi with time, but through some twist of fate, his minion remained loyal to him until the Apocalypse. Remiel was more at home in hell than he ever was in heaven – who could have guessed?

א

Later in his life, when asked how someone like him managed to snatch such a perfect husband, graphic designer extraordinaire Aaron Norfair’s answer would always be the same:

he’d made a deal with the devil, of course.

ת

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eu tenho uma lista longa de desculpas a fazer mas tá em cima da hora, i'll get around to that soon :') basicamente eu me arrependo da fic e vc merecia muito mais aaaaa e não to dizendo só por attwhorisse não


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